Haze
by Cerulean Musings
Summary: Tumblr prompt: napping in sunshine. While the rest of the students are at Hogsmeade, Draco and Theo take a well-deserved break at the Black Lake where guards are let down. Draco/Theo


_**Haze**_

His nose wrinkled. Something shifted in the air, blocking off the cool breeze from the Black Lake that had been brushing past his skin. The haze of his dreamless sleep eased away and he became grounded. Blades of grass poked at the back of his legs, distant shrieks and splashes from the first years at the Black Lake's edge floated by his ears, and his heart beat a steady rhythm against his chest.

He frowned.

"Don't even think about it," Theo warned, applying a warning tone to his words. At the following grunt and sigh of defeat, Theo's lips turned upwards in the corners. He shifted one arm from beneath his head and lay it across his stomach. He let out one long, slow, even breath, attempting to get comfortable once more, when something bounced off his chest. His eyes opened; he blinked rapidly at the dots of sunshine that peeked in through the canopy of leaves above his head and then lifted his head to see what it was that hit him.

He noticed a crumpled ball of parchment nearby. He picked it up, unfolded it, and read the words scratched onto it:

 _Troll. And you snore._

Smirking, Theo sat up, parchment still in hand, and pushed a hand through his hair. "For one, I don't. And for another, you've done better. Certainly there's something out there much worse than a troll that you could equate me to." He twisted at the waist, glancing at his companion over his shoulder. "You're losing your touch."

Draco sneered and leaned back against the tree trunk. He drew his knees upwards, cradling the leather-bound journal that sat in his lap as he tapped his ink-soaked quill against the paper beneath his hand. His gray eyes followed Theo as he lifted his arms in a stretch.

"Aren't you supposed to be doing classwork?" Theo continued, back turned, his words pointed

"You distracted me, you prat," Draco finally spoke, his words a lazy drawl that set Theo's lips twitching in the corners.

"By lying here?" Theo challenged.

"I told you, you snore. It's a bother. Have to keep my marks up, after all."

Theo hummed and tilted his head back, looking upwards at the peeks of sky that could be seen between the leaves. It was a nice change of pace from the wall of grey clouds that greeted them for the past couple of weeks. Though it was better than the murky waters that surrounded the Slytherin common room, it wasn't that much of a step up.

Thus, it wasn't hard for Theo to convince Draco to spent their first sunny day outside: unknotted ties, removed shoes, rolled up sleeves and trousers and all. It helped that everyone else had gone on a Hogsmeade trip. For the most part, they had the grounds to themselves. Draco didn't want to deal with the prying eyes, Theo knew, even if he didn't speak the words aloud. Just like he didn't need to be told why his marks were suddenly so important to him.

"I already told you, I could tutor you—" the withering glare Draco shot Theo's way stopped him in his tracks. "Alright you prick, don't come crying when Granger bests you. _Again."  
_

"Oh, don't use me for your _hopeless_ vendetta"—Theo grunted—"and besides," Draco made a show of dipping his quill into the nearby inkwell and started scratching again, "I want to do this on my own."

His hand stilled, as if waiting for Theo to take the quill or stop him with words but Theo remained silent. His hazel eyes studied Draco's face, looking to pull unspoken information from his stiff jaw and hardened gaze. "It won't kill you to have help."

"No, but I suppose it would kill _you_ ," Draco replied, locking eyes with him and lifting an eyebrow.

Theo clicked his tongue. It was a rather fair point indeed but…something about Draco made him unusually… _compelled_ to aid him. It was territory he refused to touch before, not one to join in on his cliquish tendencies of blind faith and following. Then again, where were they now? One dead, one probably drinking himself stupid within a villa in the best Italian vineyard, one making appearances in what was left of high society's social circles, and one… _Hmm_. He hadn't given Goyle a leftover thought, because, what _could_ Goyle get up to aside from disappearing into thin air? He didn't put too much stock into it.

Because, somehow, he, Theodore Nott II, was the one in Draco's company. More so than he ever had been before, even rivaling their childhood days running around their vast estates, trading cards and, when their fathers weren't home, studying the stars and chasing fireflies. Theo frowned. What was once a distant memory now felt like it belonged in a different life; one that he certainly didn't belong in.

With a blasé wave of his hand, Theo said, "You're right. Not ready to bite the bullet quite yet. Continue to flounder all you like. I'm sure that will _certainly_ bring the attention towards your name you so _desperately_ crave." A low blow it was, he knew, but that's what he did best. If Draco didn't know that by now…it wasn't his problem.

He lay back down on the ground, slamming his eyes shut. His chest swelled, ready to push out a shot of frustrated breath but he kept it in control, easing it out of his nose. His focus returned once more to the breeze, the blades of grass beneath his skin, the dots of warmth on his face.

He stiffened at the fingers sliding through his hair, curling and gripping around the locks before letting go. He anticipated a harder yank, probably well-deserved, but it never came. And over time he eased to the foreign touch, welcomed, but foreign nonetheless as he tried to recount a time where someone was so gentle with him.

"Any more smart remarks?" Draco asked.

"Shut up," Theo immediately replied. It lacked the bite he intended, a fact he was sure Draco would bring up later because he was _that_ much of a prat but as his eyelids steadily grew heavy and gooseflesh erupted all over, his fire dimmed. "You were going to draw on my face."

"It'd be a right sight improvement, that's for sure."

Theo's retort of _you wish_ stalled on his tongue at the whisper of a touch on his forehead. A touch much softer than fingers in his hair. Something shifted in the air, blocking off the cool breeze from the Black Lake that had been brushing past his skin. And something shifted inside of him, tumbled and lurched, but he didn't dare analyze it, or put a name to it. Not right now. And so he eased beneath Draco's touch, catching the sporadic sounds of lapping water on shore and the scratch of a quill as the haze of his sleep covered him once more.


End file.
